Their scornful mouths, Lord, close and seal, Against them speedily reveal Thy wrath! against Thy foes arise, Thy foes are hateful in mine eyes. Though in return, their hatred sore Against Thee burn, I do no more Amid the rage of angry foes, Than 'neath Thy shelt'ring wings repose. Lord, search and know my heart and mood, See if my way be right and good, The everlasting joyful road Lead me that brings me home to God. Songs of the Cross and Consolation. UNDER THE TRIALS OF THIS LIFE. Full often as I meditate Upon the world's disorder'd state, I ask myself if earthly life Be good, and worthy of the strife, Has he not acted for the best Who laid himself betimes to rest? Reflect, my friend, say, if you know What station is there here below Without its fall and daily share Of sorrow, pain, and anxious care? And tell me if a place there be From sorrow, tears, vexation free. And doth not every passing day, From youth to manhood, bear away Its own peculiar load of grief Upon its back, and such relief As transient joy may seem to bring, Is it not full of suffering? If times be good, and fortune smile, My God! how envy storms the while; If dignity and honours great Attend thy steps, alas! their weight. If others thou'rt preferr'd before, Than others too thou'rt burden'd more. Art thou to-day in joyous mood, Rejoicing in thy share of good? Lo! ere thou think'st, thy gains are gone, Thy joyous mood with them is flown, The hurricane so suddenly Doth sweep away thy property. Dost from the world withdraw thyself, And lov'st God more than gold or pelf? Thy crown, thy jewel, thy good name Is cover'd by the world with shame. For he who can't dissembler play, The world as fool will spurn away. 'Tis true, alas! that trouble waits In daily watch before our gates; On earth the cross is borne by all, All feel its weight, and taste its gall; But shall we therefore cast away The Christian's light? I tell thee--nay. The saints, who to their Saviour cleave, In faith and in the Spirit live, Unhurt by any ill or woe Pass through their pilgrimage below; Though things may sometimes fall out ill Yet with them it is ever well. Though they no gold have stor'd away, They've God, and care not what men say, Reject with joy, and aye despise The world's vain pomp and vanities; Their honour is to hope and wait, From God alone comes all their state. The Christian, God as Father knows, Can in His faithfulness repose; Whatever trial God may send, Can't separate him from his friend; The more He smites, he loves the more, Remaineth true, though chasten'd sore.